


Bone-Deep

by Galadriel



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Awkwardness, Bodyswap, Complicated Relationships, Confusion, Desire, Dirty Talk, Episodes: s05e05-06 The Old Switcheroo, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Missing Scene, Pain, Season/Series 05, Senses, Sensory Overload, Tenderness, Touching, Yuletide 2014, Yuletide Assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/Galadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Nathan was Duke and Duke Nathan, where did one end and the other begin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bone-Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseveare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseveare/gifts).



> Set during Season 5, Episodes 5 and 6, "The Old Switcheroo" (Parts 1 and 2).
> 
> Happy Holidays, roseveare! I really hope you enjoy this story. I was especially taken with the part of your request about Nathan's Trouble (as well as your mention of kinky/porny sensation play). "The Old Switcheroo" seemed to play directly into an exploration of Nathan's Trouble, and, like you, Nathan/Duke is my OTP, so I crossed my fingers that you'd be as interested as I am in taking the scenario a little further. There were so many wonderful ideas in your request that I'm sorry I couldn't do more, but I do hope what I have here will be something that will add a little sparkle to your holiday season.

The world lurched, Nathan's stomach dropping down to his toes before snapping back into place. He wobbled a little, knees knocking as if he was on the Cape Rouge, made unsteady by wind, waves and too much of Duke's all too dubious wine. A hand out to steady himself and everything settled, the feeling passing as quickly as it came on. 

The fingers on the back of his hand were warm and gentle. The sheets were soft and cool against his palm, the quilting bunching up pleasantly under his fingers. He squeezed again for good measure, luxuriating in the feel.

...The feel. The light stroke of skin on skin, the smooth, wide fabric, the prickle of stitching, the silken brush of trim. Nathan blinked, not quite sure if he was imagining the sweep of eyelash against cheek. He wet his lips, startled at the slide of tongue and teeth. His mouth tasted funny -- strange, not at all familiar, like he was exploring someone else's mouth, sampling their taste, indulging in a precursor to all the desires of the flesh Nathan could no longer, _should_ no longer feel. 

And yet... and yet. 

Nathan jerked upright, biting his lip even as he fumbled for his bearings. Here he was, sitting comfortably, aware of each bend in the curving of wood beneath his legs, the slickness of varnish under his fingers, the prick of a stray splinter poking up from the underside of the arm.

_Wait_. He was sitting. Sitting instead of sprawled out against the floor, knocked aside by Doohan. He was sure that had just happened. Hadn't it? He'd gone to the psychiatric facility, he was certain of that, he'd tried to talk to Jeffrey, and then... and then...

"Duke. Duke, what's wrong?"

Nathan squinted a little, willing his surroundings to sharpen, surprisingly unsurprised when Audrey swam into focus in front of him. A quick glance to left confirmed exactly what was rapidly creeping into his consciousness. There, reflected back to him in the glass, was Duke.

To Nathan's dismay, the mirrored Duke shifted as he shifted, moved his hand up Audrey's arm as he moved, and breathed as he breathed. Nathan frowned, and that Duke frowned back at him, the downturn of his mouth so familiar, yet so utterly, utterly wrong.

Whatever had happened to Gloria and Dwight had happened to him and Duke. _Dammit_. Nathan wanted to kick himself for failing to anticipate Doohan's Trouble. He should have known better. He should have _guessed_.

Although, he reflected a bit wryly, at least in this state, if he beat himself up he'd feel it. 

"Hey. Hey." Her voice drew him like a lighthouse cutting through thick fog at sea. Here was Audrey, eyes wide and filled with nothing but concern: his rock, his anchor, unable to be washed away by Mara, no matter how hard she tried. 

"Audrey?" Nathan blinked, smiled encouragingly at her, but it felt all wrong. It-- it _felt_ , but that wasn't the only oddness, the only disorienting sensation. His mouth stretched strangely around her name, his lips shaping around the vowels, making the sounds more round than they should be even as they slid more readily over his teeth. As the breath that was her name stopped, his tongue flickered again between his lips, as if it was readying itself for a fresh flow of words.

Words that were not his.

How much of Duke remained in the body Nathan found himself in? How much of himself had he left behind in the shell Duke (presumably) had control of now?

Even as Audrey stroked his hand, even as he luxuriated in the heat of her skin against his, an icy chill shivered its way up his spine.

***

Nathan licked his lips, aware of the little catch of skin where Duke had split his lip the day before. He had no idea that Duke's Trouble had become so _intense_ , the waves of pain and pressure nearly bowling him over as he struggled to contain all the Troubles the Crockers had absorbed in one body. He had no idea how Duke was holding them all in, how he had done since Mara began meddling in the cave. It had been so long since Nathan felt pain, so long since he'd had to cope with even the slight irritation of a paper cut that now the wash of cramping, twisting, throbbing muscles, the razor-sharp stab-stab-stab of nerve endings crackling with far too much potential for destruction, the flash and pop of electricity flickering behind his eyes was far too much to bear. He doubled over, curling his arms tight around his stomach, hoping that some genetic Crocker memory would keep generations of Troubles inside while Nathan could hardly keep the bile down.

Distantly, he could hear his own voice talking him through it, telling him to breathe, to try to relax, that this wave would pass just as the others did. The words were _almost_ convincing enough, almost enough to make Nathan believe he wouldn't be the death of both Duke and himself. A cool, calloused palm cupped the nape of his neck, the thumb stroking the side of his neck, a gentle rhythm that provided a slight distraction from the way Duke's atoms seemed to be ripping themselves in half under Nathan's hands. Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, focussing as best he could on that _stroke_ , _stroke_ , _stroke_ , willing himself to inhale and exhale in time with it.

Slowly, far too slowly, the fire that burned through his veins cooled, the pressure that stretched his skin, pushed from behind his eyes faded. He could breathe again, breathe without aid and thought, his chest loosening as if invisible iron bands had come free and fallen away.

Perhaps a minute had passed, perhaps longer. With this strange swap had come an equally queer unmooring of time, leaving Nathan adrift in all ways. This body was not his, was Troubled in a way he wasn't sure he could handle, and yet even the pain was a gift of sorts, the ever-present numbness replaced by sensations he hadn't experienced for so very long. He became aware of the fact that he was crouched on the upper deck of the Gull, completely unable to recall when he had crumpled to the ground. He blinked his eyes open, biting a lip, and was surprised to find himself looking up at himself-- no, at _Duke_ peering down, nothing but concern in his expression and his fingers awkwardly stroking through Nathan's hair.

"You all right, buddy?" The fingers stopped moving, sliding entirely out of the strands as Duke seemed to realize Nathan had come back to himself. Duke chuckled, the sound entirely alien coming from what should be Nathan's throat. "I thought we were both goners for a moment there. Don't go trying to outdo me, Wuornos. If anyone's going to destroy my body, it's going to be _me_. I've put in way too many years of alcohol and...other things to have some clean-living cop mess all that work up with a quick explosion or two."

Nathan smiled weakly. If Duke was joking, the worst was over, at least for now. He turned his head, flinching ever so slightly at the scrape of denim against his cheek. In the wake of the pain, it was so close to too much, each brush and tickle of texture a roar of sensation across his skin.

If it weren't for Mara, for the Doohan Trouble, for the tangled mess of misery, fear and doom hanging over their heads, Nathan was sure he could get drunk on such touches. Touching Audrey and being touched by her in turn was an oasis of feeling in the middle of a wide sea of numbness, but this... being _in_ Duke made the whole world over. He'd almost forgotten what metal, wood and stone felt like. What heat and cold, sun and wind felt like, what his very own skin felt like when rubbed under his hands.

His skin. He was Duke now, but his own face hovered above, tantalizingly within reach. Without much thought, he reached up, letting his fingertips slide over his chin. He grinned at the prickle of stubble, laughed quietly as he traced the path of an almost invisible scar. His fingers wandered a little higher, sliding over cheek and bone, tracing the shell of his ear, slipping into his own hair, gripping gently and tugging it close.

"Nathan." The word was full of warning, Duke's cadence coming through despite the borrowed vocal cords, but Nathan brushed it aside with a light puff of breath.

"She's still asleep," he murmured. They might have mere moments before Mara began her game again, but Nathan meant to enjoy a small taste of something he'd thought he'd left far behind, cast off the last time he lost the ability to feel.

Duke's borrowed lips were rough against his own, testament to his inability to remember the niceties of chapstick and lotion. He gripped Duke's hair tighter, overriding the slight hesitation that had Duke pulling back before giving in to the kiss.

It should be _wrong_ , he knew. Wrong on so many levels, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Audrey was not quite Audrey just now, and even so, she'd apparently been sharing her own kisses with Duke not so long ago. And Duke was not Duke either; surely this counted as a strange type of masturbation before it ever crossed any other thresholds. He was exploring himself, as ridiculous as that sounded, and anyway, Duke and he had spent a lifetime entwined with one another, sometimes as millstones, sometimes as mirrors, never divisible no matter how much they wished it. Even as Nathan longed for Audrey, he knew, deep in his bones, that he could never let Duke go.

And what had so long laid dormant sprung back to life with all the thirst of a parched man.

He nipped at Duke's lower lip as he broke the kiss, nuzzled at his chin as he worked his way to Duke's throat. As his goatee and Duke's stubble rubbed against one another, Nathan could feel laughter bubbling up from his chest. His skin pebbled, goosebumps rising, and he bit lightly at Duke's collarbone in retaliation.

" _Nathan_." There was that warning again, the exact sound that Nathan didn't care to hear. He huffed softly as he pushed impatiently at cloth, clearing the way to nip at newly-bared skin, travelling up and across Duke's shoulder. He made a protesting noise as Duke's palms slid down his chest, pushing just enough to force him away from his own body, enough to make him look up into the face he had only ever seen looking back at him in a mirror.

This was... this was beyond confusing, but Nathan wasn't going to let that stop him.

"Duke." Nathan shook his head, surprised at the force of longing in his voice. "I want this. Let me have this."

Duke smiled, his expression all indulgence. "I wasn't trying to stop you. It's just-- this is awkward. I'd say my ass has gone numb, but how do you even tell?" He shifted, guiding Nathan's head out of his lap and laying it overly carefully on the deck. "Stretch out and shove over." Duke slid down, stretching out, wincing as he knocked a knee against a cast iron table. "I feel like that should've hurt. A lot. Thank god this is your body, Nathan. I'm ok with banging up the rental, but I like to keep my own vehicle dent-free."

Nathan snorted. What was one more bruise? If nothing else, they coloured in the moments of carelessness Nathan was so rarely aware of when they occurred. And with Duke stretched out beside him, he was far more interested in leaving his own markings on Duke's skin. Whether he returned to his own body or not, any marks he made would remind the both of them how entwined they were.

Something Nathan was rapidly regretting forgetting for so long.

He curled his fingers in the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling Duke closer. The leather creaked under his fingers, the buttery slip and slide drawing a groan from Nathan's throat. Even the sensation of pressure, of body against body, clothing and all in the way was heady. Whenever the Troubles were in full bloom, Nathan lived in a world dampened down, an anaesthetic cloud of sight without sensation, a blunt object in a room full of scalpels. But this, this was a golden opportunity, an impressive side-effect of a dangerous situation, and it made adrenaline sing through Nathan's veins. He shifted, squirmed against Duke, gasping as his cock responded to the catch and scratch of warm denim, of cool metal zippered teeth.

It was all he could do not to rip at his-- at Duke's clothes, impatience warring with practicality. He took a long, slow, deep breath, willing himself to calm, just as he had before, then opted to slip a hand past the waistband of Duke's jeans. Cotton gave way under his fingers, and he wrapped his palm against the hard, hot, velvet smoothness of himself, surprised and relieved at the familiarity of the gesture, at the remembered throb of it in his hand.

He managed a stroke or two, twisting his hand just right, rubbing his thumb over the head before Duke caught his hand and gently coaxed it out of his pants. He smiled at Nathan, although there was something like regret in his eyes.

"Christ, Nathan. I'm sorry. It never crossed my mind that you wouldn't feel a thing. How do you even-- No, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Duke placed Nathan's hand against his chest, the pressure of his palm just a little bit too firm, as if he was ever so slightly misjudging the distance between them. "No wonder we stopped--" Duke cleared his throat and grimaced as he caught himself. "No wonder you have such a stick up your ass, man. I would too if I couldn't feel to get my rocks off."

Nathan shook his head. Of all the times for Duke to want to chat about his Trouble... "Not now. Not now. Let me do this." He twined his fingers in Duke's, fascinated by the scrape of the callus on his trigger finger. Once more, he reached for Duke's trousers, itching to wrap his hands back around Duke's cock. Once more, he was rebuffed as Duke intercepted him, guiding his hands back to rest against his own chest.

"Hey. Hey, buddy. Stop." Duke leaned in, and for one glorious moment, he brushed his lips against Nathan's, a slight flicker of tonguetip a shiver-inducing tease. "You can paw me all you want once we've slipped on the right skin-suits, but for now, let's just take care of you, ok?"

_Take care?_ Nathan swallowed a surprised noise as Duke flattened his palms, sliding them down his sides, smoothing leather and cotton against his body. He didn't need to see to register the slight tug and pop of the button of his jeans, to feel the cool caress of Duke's fingers as they glided past his waistband and into his pants. He couldn't stop the gasp that slipped from his lips as Duke wrapped his hand around Nathan's cock, the cool of his skin like ice against the hard heat of Nathan.

Nathan felt like a damn teen again as Duke squeezed firmly and began to move. The very first stroke of Duke's hand had Nathan arching upward, hips thrusting into air, every nerve ending crackling to life until Nathan was sure he was becoming a shuddering wreck. He glanced up at Duke only to see Duke's self-satisfied smirk stretching his mouth wide, not even the borrowed features dampening down the essential _Dukeness_ of him: even wearing Nathan's face, Duke shone right through.

"I'd like to suck the fillings out of your teeth and right through your dick, Nate." For all Duke spoke matter-of-factly, the words themselves were heavy with dark promise, brushing against Nathan's cheeks, his mouth, his chin and throat, travelling down his body to tug gently at his balls. "But maybe that's something best left for another day, when I can feel my ride a little more clearly." He chuckled. "I might nip the wrong place, and something tells me you're not going to be into that kind of pain, not just yet." He uncurled his hand long enough to let his fingertips brush lower, skimming the base of Nathan's cock, teasing even as they cupped and caressed.

As much as he tried to hold back, Nathan whimpered, shuddering heavily as Duke's hands moved over him. He was stroking again, long, slow slides of callused palm against Nathan's shaft, wave upon wave of sensation flowing through him with each tiny twitch of Duke's fingers. His hips twisted, bucked, thrusting against nothing. Nothing except the sight, sound and _feel_ of Duke, filling his senses, overwhelming even Nathan's desire to think.

He reached up, gripping Duke's shirt, marvelling at the way he could make it bunch, twist, wrinkle and rumple just by flexing a few small bones. He was definitely drunk now, or maybe high as a kite, as he was sure each teasing, trembling touch had become so all-consuming that he could _hear_ it all humming in his ears, _taste_ it in the back of his throat. He tugged Duke closer, wanting to taste every flutter and flicker, drink Duke down until he was thrumming through Nathan's veins. 

Just before he managed to crush Duke's mouth against his own, clicking their teeth together as he slipped his tongue past Duke's teeth, he felt the whisper of Duke's breath carrying murmured half-promises, echoes of the past coaxed into the present.

"It's all right," came the whisper. "It's good. _You're_ good. Let go. Let go and feel it, Nate. You're safe. You're safe here with me."

Anything else Duke tried to say Nathan swallowed down, letting the warmth of Duke's words kindle something long-dormant inside him. And as that spark flickered into life, he felt his muscles tense up, his body convulse, then straighten, his balls tight and heavy and aching.

Duke's fingers never let up, the _stroke_ , _stroke_ , _stroke_ demanding and insistent, impossible to deny. Nathan could feel his cock twitch, feel it contract for that brief split-second before it pulsed, wet and warmth, pleasure and promise spilling over him, over Duke, each twinge an electric charge crackling under his skin.

He thought he screamed, thought he could feel his throat constricting and opening to let all his secrets spill, but it was Duke's turn to swallow him down, muffling his words, taking in his incoherent noises, drinking in Nathan as Nathan had wanted to drink, twining them tighter and tighter until Nathan was sure he would always be able to feel Duke under his skin.

Perhaps it was moments; perhaps hours. But when Nathan came back to himself, it was to the sound of Duke's voice, borrowed vocal chords finally bending to Duke's will, breathing out quiet reassurances, gentle kindnesses that Nathan wasn't sure he was supposed to hear. He swallowed, aware of the prickling rawness of his throat, the sweat pooling in the hollows of his skin. Duke's voice was a soft susurration, the inevitable ebb and flow of the sea, and as Nathan's heart slowed in his chest -- no longer a hammer against his ribs, a thunder of hooves -- he felt as if he was floating free.

This might end in his death, he knew. He might fail to keep Duke's body under control, fail to let a Trouble go, fail to coax Audrey out of Mara, fail to keep Haven safe, but here and now, with Duke's fingers pressing at once too light and too firm against his scalp, Duke's words wreathing his brow, winding their way into the whorls of his ears, he was as safe as he'd ever be. Swapped or not, alive or dead, Duke would never be far from Nathan, and Nathan never far from Duke. 

They were neither of them perfect, neither of them entirely truthful or entirely open, but if there was one thing that this switch, these moments had taught Nathan, it was that Duke and he were indivisible, inextricable, bound together bone-deep.


End file.
